


A Crown of Knives

by lalejandra



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Dealing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-12
Updated: 2005-05-12
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra
Summary: Drug dealer AU.This is part of the L&O:SVU AU game:they are all drug dealers.If you look closely, you can see dS and CSI crossover.





	A Crown of Knives

Cragen is in Vegas with Brass and the Bookman. Only she and Fin know, and Cragen didn't even want to tell them. Who'd believe it? Liv is still kind of disbelieving that the Jim Brass they've been sending the packages to is a cop.

It's good that they know, because there's a problem. A big problem, and Fin's designated the Jew to fix it, but they all know that's not going to work. Not even the Jew can fix the NYPD. The only thing they can do is keep sending Cragen messages with the payout, and keep their heads down.

The Jew looks at her knowingly when he passes her on his way into Fin's office; she lets her knife slide down from her sleeve into her hand. If they think this is her fault, they've got another think coming and she'll give it to them herself.

The handle of the knife digs comfortingly into her palm, and she watches: if Fin invites the Jew to sit, Liv is safe. If the Jew stays standing, Liv is a dead woman. They're all dead.

A hand settles on her shoulder and she jumps, turns; it's Casey, worried eyes, pouty mouth. Nobody ever suspects she carries; she's the one out of all of them that the cops haven't twigged to yet.

"What do you think?" says Casey. She talks through her teeth and that makes Liv crazy, but it works for her, and Liv more than anyone knows that you gotta stick with what works.

"I dunno," says Liv. Their breathing is synchronized. Liv drops her eyes from the office for a moment; Casey is holding her knife too.

When Liv raises her head, the Jew is sitting, and Fin is laughing, and she and Casey both let out deep breaths, too deep.

The door slams -- it's El.

"Made and done," he says, and tosses her a stack of money. She catches it with one hand, tilts her other arm to let her knife slide back into her sleeve, and unwraps the red ribbon. Only the fucking uptown girls would wrap their coke money with a red ribbon. Real silk, too, from the feel of it. She slips it into her desk drawer; it would be pretty around her throat, or in her hair.

"You're clear, seven grand," she says, and pushes seven hundreds across the table to him. "Buy yourself something pretty."

He winks at her. His face is the only part of his body that isn't grotesque -- his whole head is all right, except for the piece of his left ear that's missing. The back of his neck was burned with acid, he's got scars from the bullets all over his torso, his arms are a mass of raised horizontal lines from knives, and...

Liv raises her eyes to his; he's smirking at her.

Casey is still standing behind her. "Don't do it, guy," she says warningly, but Liv ignores her.

"Go away, Novak," says El. "Liv and I are just having a conversation."

"You're having a conversation like Fin and the Jew are having a conversation," says Casey. "When Cragen comes back, he's not going to be happy about this."

"Cragen," says El, "is too busy fucking that Vegas cop to care about our sex lives."

Liv doesn't have a sex life, but she doesn't open her mouth. El doesn't need to know that when Cragen's not around, Fin drops her for the Jew. He probably does know, actually, but she doesn't need to confirm that.

"You'd all better look alive," says Casey, "because --"

"Shut up," says El. He's still staring into Liv's eyes, and she's still staring back. "Go away."

Casey huffs, but leaves; she wants El for herself, but she doesn't believe in fucking in the office. That's why she never hooked up with Cragen. That's how she keeps her rep clean with the cops, but it's gotta be hell for her personal life.

El's eyes are blue blue blue, and Liv could stare at them all day, but she wouldn't give El the satisfaction.

"You worried like Novak?" says El, and Liv shakes her head, forces her mouth to curl into a smirk.

"Nothing worries me," she replies, and breaks eye contact. She focuses on her task: putting each bill between pages in a battered old hardcover fantasy novel with a dragon on the cover. The status report is already in there, pages bent over like bookmarks. "But you should be careful."

"What, the only guy who can fuck with Fin's property is Fin?" El is leaning on her desk now, perilously close to the uncounted money. She narrows her eyes at him.

"Go to your own desk, El," she says. She slides the book into an envelope destined for Vegas, along with a receipt showing that the book was purchased from the amazon.com marketplace. It'll hit Vegas in three days, and he'll give the money to the Bookman and the status report to Cragen.

She'll address the envelope later, after El is gone, so that El doesn't find out that Jim Brass is a Captain with the LVPD. It's dangerous for them to work with a cop, but it's even more dangerous for a cop to be fucking a drug kingpin. A drug _mastermind_ ; Cragen's got a brain like Liv can't believe, and if he trusts Brass, they all trust Brass -- and if Brass is in bed with the Iguana family, he's gotta be a trustworthy guy.

Liv thinks El is a trustworthy guy; as trustworthy as any of them are, anyway. As trustworthy as she is. But she still won't tell him, because he's not cleared. They're like the fucking FBI, with levels of security clearance; she's even got a badge. It's got a fake name and everything, but it scans her into the building, and it's got a clearance level on it to show their partners how high up the food chain she is.

El is working his way up, but he's not there yet.

She realizes she's staring at him when he runs a finger over her wrist; she slaps him away, stands, and crosses the room to rap on Fin's door. When she walks in at his behest, the Jew is on his knees, Fin's cock in his mouth. She closes the door behind her, closes the door on El's mocking eyes.

"What'cha got for me?" says Fin.

Liv blushes, catches herself, speaks without stammering: "Seven thou from El for the uptown girls. I already gave him his cut -- cash, not goods." Fin nods at her. She waves the Vegas envelope, continues with, "Anything else for Cragen?"

"Yeah. Tell him that the Jew here told me that El is an undercover cop. We're taking him out tonight. I'll let Novak know to pull his take off him before she dumps the body."

Liv's heart stops and she's pretty sure she's dying, but she nods her head.

"I'd hate it," says Fin, "if someone was to tell El before we got to him." He's glaring, but she plays it cool, tilts up her chin.

"I'll send Novak in." She holds out her hand. "Can I have a pen?"

She turns the envelope inside out, and with Fin's crossword puzzle pencil, she writes _El says goodbye_ on the yellow manila inside, and then turns it all back the way it's supposed to be, puts the book and receipt back inside, and hands Fin his pen. He's breathing harder now, sweating a little, and the slurping noises the Jew is making have her feeling a little queasy.

Fin nods at her, and she walks out, and El is already gone, and she wouldn't have told him anyway. Maybe.

  



End file.
